


First it Giveth (then it taketh Away)

by karrenia_rune



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tonepoem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonepoem/gifts).



Disclaimer: Dragonlance and the characters who appear here or are mentioned belong to their original creators, and publishers. They are not mine,  
with the minor exception of Bartelmo and Lydia. The story was written for tone poem's Yule 2016 request in the NYR challenge.

The city had been constructed like a wheel; a wheel with many spokes that radiate out from the inner central hub. At each of the cardinal points they city planners had the architects construct massive gates. For those in the know; there are other ways into and out of the city built on later on like the gnarl of wood that gradually grows up and around an arrow embedded into the trunk of a tree. 

Most residents and merchants and travelers who come to Palanthas do so by the main gates. Those without the means to present the proper documents and wherewithal use the smaller gates or hope to stream inside past the watchful eyes of the gate guards.

This is how a cloaked figure entered the city over a month ago during the waxing of Nuitari while the remainder of Palanthas' citizens were gearing up to celebrate the biggest festival of the year. 

Many were glad of the influx of newcomers to their city, more trade, more partakers of the sites, sounds and culture. Of course, there were always a handful who grumbled about outsiders taking up the best benches in the taverns and the accommodations in the hostelries, however, these were few and far between.

**

A half day's travel from the city the twins sat around a campfire grateful for the light and the warmth because the mid-spring weather in this area was bound to be a little on the nippy side so the large of the two men sharing the campsite threw a handful of kindling on the flames. 

The slightly built figure hunkered down, the hood of his red robe gathered around him, as if even the warmth of the fire is not enough because he shivered, then began to cough, great hacking dry heaves only slightly alleviated by sips of the herbal tea out of a clay cup.

"Did I do okay, Raist?" the big man asked.

"It is fine, my brother."

"Just your cough, I think it's gotten worse since, since..." he trailed off into a bit of an uncomfortable silence.

The big man was tall, heavily muscled and underneath his traveling cloak one can see the outline of a man accustomed to labor or fighting. But uncomfortable talking about the direction his thoughts leading him, so he swallowed tacking on only a "since you know what."

"The Test." the other replied with a sardonic twist to his thin lips. "Yes, Yes, I am painfully aware of that. But, Caramon, The Test gave me everything I ever wanted, power, respect., and more." 

"Yeah, I think...."

"You, think?" 

Caramon flushed giving his deeply tanned wide-boned face a kind of mummer's mask.

"Yeah, Yeah. But why would you put through all that pain and torture, if this, this, is the result? I just don't understand!" Caramon threw up his in mingled pain and frustration. The strange thing about all of this: Caramon was accustomed to action and reaction, the heady adrenaline rush of fighting and defending; and the easy companionship of fellow soldiers and his close friends. 

All of these messy and complicated magical things were the types of things that Caramon thought he would never understand even if he lived to be a thousand years old. 

 

It has become increasingly obvious that Raistlin, who had spent the better of his adolescence and now into his early manhood studying arcane lore; understood them so well that in all the time when that they had been travelling around the continent of Abanassia it had sometimes placed both of their lives in harm's way.

Once, when they'd been searching for some sign of the return of the true gods, who had been absent from Krynn since the fall of the city of Istar many hundreds of years ago; the small village they'd been trying to help panicked and their fear had attempted to burn Raistlin at the stake.

It had been a close one, but they'd managed to get out alive. Despite everything, the brothers made a good team, and for a while at least they were still in demand. Caramon did not mind the fact they were hiring out their services and talents as mercenaries; his brother might have had reservations, but he kept those to himself.

"I suppose now would be a good time to mention the letter I received via courier a few days ago," Raistlin remarked as he finished his tea, cleaned it with the hem of his robe and placed it back into his satchel.

"What letter? Is it another job?"

"Seems to be. It's from of the Ministers of the City of Palanthas."

"We've never been there."

"Patience, my brother. It goes on with several unnecessary flourishes but the gist of it consists of mysterious disappearances in and around the demarcations between the main hub and, shall we say poorer district. Apparently, the city ministers are baffled by the case otherwise they would not have called upon us. They believe that something untoward and supernatural may be at work."

"Sounds like something right up our alley. Do they have any leads?"

"We shall find that out upon our arrival," Raistlin replied, they went to unroll his bedroll from his pack and fell asleep.

"Night, Raist, but I would really like to see that letter. I wonder if it really is something supernatural?" 

Caramon yawned and then scratched an itch on his side before he fell asleep as well.

***

They twins arrived at the central gate of Palanthas shortly before the mid-afternoon rush. Their wait in the straggling line took about half an hour but they were waved through when Raistlin presented the letter from the city ministers.

**

They were met at the City Council chambers by guards neatly turned out in burgundy uniforms and white crests with an image of the city stamped onto their shining brass breastplates and with high plumes on their helms. 

Caramon, with the eye of both a trained warrior and current mercenary, looked askance at this frippery and wondered if these soldiers had ever actually been in a real battle. Also, if they had, how they managed to avoid getting their sword hilts from becoming entangled in their own capes.

At one point as they were led through the winding corridors of the Council hall, the guards instructed them to leave all weapons at the door of the inner council chamber.

Caramon was inclined to put up a fuss, and it nearly led to blows before Raistlin placed a calming hand on his brother's muscled forearm. "Peace, brother. It is merely a formality."

"Ok, Ok," Caramon hoarsely muttered under his breath, adding a quick, "but I don't have to like it."

The Captain of the City Guards said, not unkindly," Your weapons will be returned to you upon your departure."

One of the younger guards cleared his throat and turned to Rasitlin, "Sir, if I may, but your staff, that will have to be left behind as well. He paused, "As you say, it's just a formality.

Rasitlin turned to the young guard who appeared more than a little taken aback to be so regarded. "It's a staff, nothing more. Surely you can understand that?"

"Yes, well," the guard trailed off and they were ushered into the inner council chambers.

The council ministers who had been sitting around a carved wooden table but rose to greet them, and they were offered to take two of the empty seats. 

When all were seated, a middle-aged man with a red and white stole draped over his shoulder and a crest pinned to the front of his tunic began: "Welcome to Palanthas, thank you for coming, especially on such short notice."

"Indeed," Raistlin said.

"I am Conrad Balguery, the Minister of the Interior, my fellow ministers and I have chosen me to speak on why we have asked you here." 

"Uhm, Raist," Caramon muttered,"Can you clue me in here?"

"This city has begun to enter into our annual Spring Festival. The letter I sent you briefly outlined the situation. This is the celebration of the spring solstice, of course," Conrad chuckled, shrugging and sharing a commiserating glance with the three male ministers on his left, and the two female ministers on his right, before adding, "We all know, that in these modern times no one really observes the waning and waxing of Krynn's moons with the possible exception of farmers and magic users."

Raistlin offered a small smile and nodded. "I should think so."

"That being said," one of the women spoke up. "In the past several month's many children have gone missing and while the Guards are the pride of the city they can only do so much," she said. 

As Lavonne, the Minister of Civil Affairs has mentioned, this does make an admittedly difficult task even harder," Conrad continued. "The influx of new visitors to the city increases the task of the Guard to maintain law and order once the Festival is in full swing."

"You would like us to investigate these disappearances and get to the bottom of them."

Conrad nodded, "You will be given a seal to get you into and out of the various quarters of the city." "Discretely, please. We don't want to unduly worry the populace."

"No, no, we must not have that," Lavonne agreed.

Raistlin offered a brief nod of his head and then accepted the documents, adding, "very well, however, what you require of us will take resources. Therefore, we suggest that you give us half the reward payment now and half when the job is completed."

Conrad winced but his smooth mask soon reappeared and said, "Agreed." And gestured to one of the other to bring forth a sack full of gold and silver coins which Caramon accepted.

"Then we will be going," Raistlin replied. 

"Thanks," Caramon added.

"We'll expect you back as soon as possible," Conrad replied. "Good luck." The papers we gave you include a summary of the most frequent disappearances. I suggest you start you search there. 

"I do not believe in luck," Raistlin replied as they were led out. Caramon was relieved that before they were escorted back out of the building the guards did return his weapons and his brother's staff.

****

The search began in the area they had determined was the epicenter, and had spread out from there to other areas, other quarters. Asking at the bars, the inns, the market. No luck. No one had ever seen or heard tell of the missing people.

When night fell the brothers took lodging in a local hostel and after a meal of bread and lentil soup climbed the stairs to their room on the third floor. Raistlin was in the midst of sipping at his herbal concoction filling the small room with the mingled aroma of roses and spices when he heard a knock on the door to their room.

“Who is it?”

“A friend. I want to speak to you about an important matter.”

“Come in,” Raistlin invited.

"You are the ones going to the city asking about the disappearances?"

"Yes."

"My name is Lydia Balgary, I am the one best suited to help you."

"Do tell," Raistlin coaxed.

"Up until recently, my husband had been only a moderately successful practitioner of the arcane arts; the kind that involved some actual skill but mostly relied on a sleight of hand, smoke, and mirrors, trickery and illusions."

"What was his name?" Caramon asked. 

"Bartelmo the Magnificent was his stage name, but he sometimes did this trick with beehives, but only when he get delivery of the bees. In any case, he just up and vanished one day. Others soon vanished as well."

Rasitlin would sneer at this normally but waited her out. "He never reappeared?"

"But if you said he vanished, what happened to him?" Caramon added.

She reached up to tug at the lacy veil covering her face and pinched the bridge of her nose with her finger-tips then sighed. "Alas, Bartelmo the Magnificent was not that good of an illusionist."

"Is there anything you would like us to convey to your husband when we find him?" Raistlin asked.

"Oh, I doubt it, the woman said in a much more confident voice. "I should think he's dead." The woman's long black hair was bound up in a bun and covered in black crush velvet hat. She had icy blue eyes in a pale, narrow face and full red lips.

"You, ah, don't sound very broken up about it," remarked Caramon.

Lydia sighed. "You see, my philosophy when it comes to husbands is that they should be much like tissue; soft, strong and dependable. Hmm, are you single?"

Caramon blushed and back-pedaled a few paces. "Ah... no, that is...."

Raistlin jumped in. "Thank you, but if you could tell us more about the Chest of Wonders, Madam."

"Oh that old thing," Lydia replied, "Sure, right this way. In fact, I was thinking about selling but held off because aside from the jewels which might fetch a good asking price no one but another mage would be interested in 'THAT' old thing."

take us to the Chest of Wonders, I would like to study it.

"Do you know what this thing is?" Caramon asked.

"No, not as such, but I've heard of artifacts that capable of magnifying a magic-users latent or manifested abilities."

"It sounds like it got the best of this Bartelmo fellow," Caramon remarked.

***  
Encounter

The apartment was on the second floor just above a decent-sized bakery. In one of the storage areas a trap-door had built into the floor and Caramon shoved several heavy crates out of the way long enough to make room for them to get at it. That done, he yanked at the pull and then went down inside.

"If it's all the same to you," Lydia stated. "I'm staying up here. That thing has caused us nothing but trouble."

"A wise decision, madam,'" Raistlin replied.

Once down in the room below, a root cellar, they took a look around. The first thing they noticed was a body lying on the floor. Raistlin bent down to examine it. It's Bartelmo."

"Is he dead? How can you tell?" Caramon asked.

"He's wearing a name tag. And it appears his heart just stopped."

"How?"

"I believe he either died of fear or some sort of lightning strike. There's a jagged white scar down the center of his chest."

The second was the dozen or so people also frozen stock -still as statues. If not for the slow rise and fall of their chests the twins might have believed them dead as well, but all of them were still on their feet. There were adults and children mixed in the group. 

"This is kinda creepy, Raist," Caramon muttered under his breath.

In the center of the room underneath a dusty tarp tied with a rope was the arcane object.

Raistlin removed the tarp and flung it aside; but not before he took a step back to regard it carefully. It was a rectangular box of cedar carved with ivory inlay and the jewels were secretive opals inlay and bold garnets, and emeralds. Their sparkle somewhat overshadowed by the layers of dust that covered everything in the root cellar.

"Is that it?" Caramon asked.

"Yes."

Raistlin concentrated and her could almost feel an implacable pull on his mind, and another pull at his magic. As he had told his brother, he had heard of, studied, read and even heard of arcane objects capable of magnifying a magic user's abilities.

Up until now he had never encountered one that possessed a will of its own. The outside of the chest did not matter, what mattered was the inside. It could have been imbued with power or perhaps the lost soul of a powerful ancient mage had been trapped inside of it.

Whatever the case, it could not be allowed to remain here. He narrowed his will and his concentration weighing over which spell to use.

Raistlin's speculations were cut short when a disembodied voice spoke to him.

"Red-robed one, for now. Red-robe much the moons that only those who truly know, appreciate magic for what it is, come to me. Free me. Use me."

Raistlin took several steps forward. "I think not." Instead, he wove his hands together and cast a net woven of light and shadow over the chest.

Several streaks of white-hot lightning shot out from the chest like tongues of flame and made a bee-line for where Caramon stood.

Fortunately he was able to deflect it with his shield in time to avoid the brunt of it. "Huh," he grunted. 

"Keep alert, my brother."

The tongues of flame came forth once more and this time they landed on the floor and turned into green, blue and black salamanders with slavering jaws. 

"Caramon, there's a bucket of rainwater to your left. Use that to dispel the creatures."

Caramon nodded. "Got it. He went over and grabbed the barrels, some of which were as broad around the torso as he was, lugged them over and doused the fire-salamanders with water. They hissed and steamed as their fires were put out, and left black streaks on the floor.

The Chest was not done with them, however. One of those who had been frozen now stirred creakily to life. Soon half a dozen followed suit, their eyes pinpoints of light in their otherwise slack pale faces. They carried cudgels and slowly approached the brothers.

“Do not hurt them, Caramon,” Raistlin warned, then shrugged, “Well, only enough to subdue them. Can you manage that?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

Raistlin nodded. “Do so. I have my hands full subduing the malignant powers of the Chest.”

Caramon knocked the cudgels out of their hands only half-listening to the cadences of his brother’s voice as he chanted an incantation in the spidery language of magic.

Even when the cudgels were gone they kept coming. Caramon was forced to back-pedal and finally used the flat of his blade to knock them down. The smaller stayed down, the three children; two boys and girl started crying. Caramon wanted to apologize and go over to lend them a hand but he couldn’t because the three men came at him again.

He knocked them down a second time and this time they stayed down.

“Uh, Raist? 

“One moment.”

“There, that’s got it.”

“Yes, for the moment the box should be safe to transport.”

“It had these people trapped in a state of suspended animation.

“Huh?

 

“You noticed how they were all frozen like statues?”

“Yeah, I did,” Caramon replied.

“Well, it seems that I could trap it by using its own game against it. For the moment the Chest is trapped between one state of being and another.”

“Don’t rightly understand most of that, but it’s over now?”

“Yes.”

“Hope I didn’t hit them too hard.

“Not to worry, brother. I doubt that when they do recover many will not remember any of this,” replied Raistlin.

 

***Once they had managed to get those en-spelled to realize that they were now free the brothers took all the 'vanished' back to the City Guard so they could go back to their homes and families. That done Rasitlin suggested that they fulfill the other half of their contract and inform the city ministers what they had discovered and claim the other half of their reward money.

He also insisted they he does the talking. Caramon agreed. He wanted to leave. Palanthas, he had decided, was a nice place to visit but he would not want to live there. 

***

Conclusion

"What's going to happen to the Chest of Wonders? It's dangerous, isn't it?"

"It is. Most likely it will go to the Tower of High Sorcery and placed into a vault. Where it will not fall into the wrong hands."

No sooner had he said this when a couple of white and red-robed mages appeared and approached their camp-site. 

"Sorry to pop out on you unannounced, Young Majere, but as you mentioned, it is dangerous in the wrong hands, or even, as proven just now, in hands that could not control its power."

Raistlin glanced up at this, seemingly primed to deliver a cutting remark, instead removed the Chest of Wonders from its wooden crate and scooted it over with a booted foot.

The other mages cast a spell and surrounding it in a bubble and then disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

Caramon shook his head, his wavy chestnut hair nearly falling to get into his brown eyes. Normally cheerful and easy to get along with, they had a wondering look at them now. There was a moment of awkward silence before, then he said: "I guess so.

In other circumstance he might have responded to this with one of many in his stock of sarcastic barbs, but whether it was the look in Caramon's eyes or something else about within himself had caught him up; choose not to make a cutting remark about Caramon having more brawn than brains and simply asked, "Does that trouble you?"

Caramon clenched his fists, unable to fully articulate what he was feeling at this moment. Then he stole a glance at his brother, wondering, for once, maybe just maybe that Raistlin felt the same way. It made for an awkward and confusing knot in his stomach and unable to assess this awkwardness or if he even could, instead Caramon coughed.

When Caramon more or less had control of his turbulent emotions and his voice he said: "No, Yes, maybe a little bit."

Caramon added. " I've seen you and other magic-users do really incredible stuff with magic, but it's not the same is it?"

Raistlin's now pale eye-brows lifted a fraction of an inch and he glanced speculatively at his twin brother. "You are correct, Caramon, is it not the same, in the simplest of terms, right and wrong, light and dark; the hard part is being able to distinguish between them." Raistlin paused and seemed to have his focus on something far away and separated from their immediate surroundings for a while. His gaze was locked on something only he could see.

"Even though I managed to undo the worse of the psychic damage," sighed Raistlin,"I believe some residue will remain. However, Caramon, do not concern yourself with the fate of those people. Children especially are more resilient then perhaps anyone gives them credit for. Raistlin allowed himself a tiny smile. "They will be fine."

"You sure?" 

"Quite sure." Raistlin softly replied, placing a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. " Now let's get some sleep. I would like to make an early start in the morning."  
"You get some sleep, Raist. I can take first watch."

Caramon sighed, his hands busy with polishing his sword. "Where are we going next?"

"Wherever we wish, my brother."


End file.
